Reap What You Sew (2 page)

Ahhh, yes. Leona’s techniques. How could she forget?

She opened her mouth to speak, to remind her always-groomed friend that she didn’t have the time or the inclination to spend three hours getting ready each morning, when a series of rapid movements out of the corner of her eye brought her up short. And then, just as quick, Margaret Louise’s hand dipped into the tote bag on Annabelle’s shoulder and removed four items… .

Tori’s stapler.

Tori’s paper clip container.

Tori’s pencil holder.

And the apple Mr. Downing had given her on her way into work that very morning.

Without so much as a missed beat, Margaret Louise returned each item to its original spot and patted her mother on the back. Leona rolled her eyes.

“I think Victoria looks as beautiful as always.” Margaret Louise gestured her now empty hand toward Tori and smiled at her mother. “Victoria is our librarian, and there’s not a person in this town who doesn’t adore her.”

“That may be true for the live ones, but the dead ones? I’m betting they don’t have quite the same warm and fuzzy where she’s concerned,” Leona mumbled.

Ignoring the pot-stirring barb, Tori reached across the information desk and placed a hand over Annabelle’s. “Ms. Elkin, it is my pleasure to meet you. I couldn’t ask for two better friends than your daughters. I’m very blessed to have them in my life.”

And she was. A million times over.

In fact, of all the places she’d ever lived, she’d never felt more at home than she did right there in Sweet Briar. Sure, it had been tough going at first thanks to the unenviable task of replacing the woman who had served as head librarian for nearly forty years—a task that had been further complicated by doing it in a town that a) didn’t take too kindly to outsiders and b) took even less kindly to
Yankee
outsiders. But, eventually, she’d made it through thanks to friends like Leona, Margaret Louise, and the rest of the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle—all of whom had taught her a thing or two about true friendship along the way.

Now, as she drank in every detail of Annabelle Elkin—the petite, slightly stooped stature, the thinning gray hair, the pronounced cheekbones—Tori couldn’t help but wonder which of the qualities she’d grown to love in Leona and Margaret Louise had come from this woman.

Was Annabelle the reason Margaret Louise was so thoughtful? Had she been the wonderful grandmother to Jake growing up as Margaret Louise was to Jake and Melissa’s ever-growing brood? Did she like to cook as much as her always-happy daughter?

Or was Annabelle more like Leona? Part bristly and cantankerous with an underlying dose of generosity? Did she have a thing for men in uniform the way Leona did?

They were all good questions. With answers she couldn’t wait to learn.

Annabelle moved slowly down the counter, her gaze fixed on the pile of books Tori had been planning to shelve before Duwayne Morgan called.

Duwayne.

She clapped her hands softly and glanced back at her friends. “You haven’t said what you think of the news yet.”

“What news?” Margaret Louise asked, her focus never leaving her mother. “Have you and Milo finally set a date for gettin’ hitched?”

Just the mere mention of her fiancé’s name made her smile. There were times when she still found it hard to believe someone as wonderful as Milo Wentworth actually existed. He was warm, thoughtful, generous, kindhearted, and a million other pinch-worthy qualities all rolled into a package that was handsome to boot. And he loved and cherished her in a way she’d never known before.

Glancing down at the ring she’d finally allowed him to place on her finger, she couldn’t help but feel giddy. Milo was truly one of a kind.

Her
kind.

“Not an exact day, no. But we’re looking at about this time next year.”

“I believe they call that a shotgun wedding,” Leona mused.

“Twelve months is a shotgun wedding?” she echoed in disbelief.

“It’s less than eighteen months, isn’t it?”

Tori held her hands up in surrender. “Can we get back to Nina and the baby, please?”

Margaret Louise and Leona sucked in their breath simultaneously. “Baby? Nina had the baby?”

Her mouth gaped open as she took in the utter shock on Margaret Louise’s gently lined face. “You—you didn’t hear?”

Leona crossed her ankles in delicate fashion, her mouth contorting in boredom. “Really, dear, you’re awful at the cat and mouse game.”

Cat and mouse game?

She pondered Leona’s words for a moment only to shake them off in favor of being the one to
share
the news instead of always hearing everything last. “Yes. She had the baby.”

Margaret Louise echoed Tori’s original clap, her large brown eyes happy once again. “She did? When? It was a boy, wasn’t it? I told you she was carrying that baby like a boy!”

She couldn’t help but laugh. Whatever had Margaret Louise so subdued was long forgotten as the notion of a new baby in Sweet Briar took root for the grandmother of seven—soon to be eight.

One by one, Tori divulged the details her assistant’s husband had so happily shared with her not more than twenty minutes earlier. “Duwayne and Nina welcomed their new son at nine thirty this morning. He’s six pounds, four ounces and—”

“I knew she should’ve done more eatin’. Six pounds, four ounces? Woo-eee, that’s tiny.”

“Let Victoria finish, Margaret Louise.”

She grinned at Leona. “It’s okay. Your sister is excited.”

“Is Nina okay?” Margaret Louise asked.

“Nina is fine. Duwayne said she made it through like a champ.”

“And the baby?” Margaret Louise leaned forward against the counter. “What did they name him?”

“Lyndon James.”

Leona nodded her consent ever so slightly. “Lyndon James. Lyndon James Morgan. That’s a good name.”

“Isn’t it? I think it—”

A flash of movement at the far end of the counter made her turn just in time to see Annabelle shove a book in her tote. Before she could make sense of what she was seeing, Margaret Louise was at the woman’s side, fetching the book—along with Tori’s highlighter, cell phone, and hand sanitizer—back out of the bag, returning everything to its original location.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was saved by the sound of the front door opening.

Looking up, she waved at Beatrice Tharrington and her young charge, Luke, their unexpected arrival helping to dispel a tension she hadn’t yet begun to understand.

“Victoria? Did you hear the news?” The youngest and shyest member of the sewing circle fairly ran to the information desk with the day’s newspaper in her hand, her feet only slowing when she spotted Leona. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had guests.”

“It’s a library, dear. That’s what she’s supposed to have.” Leona shot an irritated glance in the general direction of her sister and mother, then turned to face the English nanny. “We already know about Nina and the baby.”

Beatrice stopped, her cheeks taking on a pinkish hue. “Nina had her baby?”

Tori nodded. “A boy. Lyndon James.”

“A tiny little thing,” Margaret Louise supplied as she ushered her mother to a chair beside a less than pleased Leona. “Just six pounds, four ounces.”

Beatrice’s shoulders slumped. “I hadn’t heard.”

Tori rushed to ease any hurt feelings. “It just happened. In fact, I just now told Margaret Louise and Leona.”

The nanny perked up. “Oh. Well that’s splendid news. Ducky, really.”

“
Ducky?
” Leona repeated. “Did you say
ducky
?”

Taking command of the conversation before it took a dangerous turn, Tori pointed at the paper in Beatrice’s hand. “I take it the news you’re talking about is something different?”

“News?” Flustered, Beatrice looked from Tori to Leona and back again. “What news?”

Luke wrapped his arms around Beatrice, the admiration and love he had for his nanny impossible to miss. “Tell them about the movie, Miss Bea. Tell them how they need people to be in it.”

“Movie? What movie?” Leona asked, all traces of sarcasm and boredom suddenly missing from her ladylike southern drawl.

The six-year-old tugged on Beatrice’s sweater. “Tell her, Miss Bea. Tell her.”

“Oh. Yes. I guess I got sidetracked hearing about the baby.” Slowly, Beatrice held the entertainment section of the South Carolina
Sun
up in the air. “They’re coming.
Here.
”

“Who’s coming?” Tori asked gently.

Beatrice placed the paper on the counter, stopping to smooth it with a practiced hand. “Warren Shoemaker.”

“Who’s Warren Shoe—”

“Hush,” Leona commanded as she cocked her head of salon-softened gray hair a hairbreadth to the left, a clear indication she was processing the name and double-checking it against an internal data bank of men she’d either known over the past six and a half decades or hoped to know in the not too distant future. Sure enough, after barely a pause, Leona spoke, peering over the top of her glasses as she did. “Warren Shoemaker is only the most talked-about film director in all of England. He’s talented, shrewd, extremely wealthy
and
”—she slipped a petal pink compact from her purse and flipped it open, inspecting her hair and face in its tiny mirror—“he’s one of
Individual
magazine’s top ten Most Handsome Men in Show Business for the eighth year in a row.”

“He’s gonna make a movie right here in Sweet Briar, isn’t he, Miss Bea?” Without waiting for a response, Luke tugged on Beatrice’s arm. “Miss Bea? May I go to the children’s room? I’ll be good.”

Tori couldn’t help but smile at the anticipation on the little boy’s face—anticipation for a room she’d dreamt of for years yet executed in a matter of days. Knowing that it was just as loved by the library’s youngest patrons made it all the more special.

Beatrice glanced at Tori. “Is that okay, Victoria?”

“Of course. There’s a volunteer reader in there now if he hurries.”

As Luke disappeared down the back hallway, Leona regained control of the conversation. “Warren is going to make a movie here in Sweet Briar? When?”

Tori looked down at the newspaper, skimming the opening lines of the full-page article she’d somehow managed to miss. She fought to bite back a squeal at the mention of the movie’s name in the second paragraph. “Oh how wonderful! He’s making a movie based on one of my favorite novels,
Memories of Autumn
.”

“Isn’t that the one where the male protagonist is dying of some sort of disease and he’s all but given up on finding someone to share his life with… but then he does?” Margaret Louise asked from her spot beside her mother, her soft, pudgy hand fairly holding Annabelle’s hand to the table.

Tori nodded before taking in the article once again. “It says here that our town square was selected as the location where Kevin—the protagonist—first sees Patricia. That scene, as well as a few other critical outdoor scenes, will film here in Sweet Briar with somewhere between ten and fifteen extras.”

“I’ve always thought that would be tremendous fun,” Beatrice said. “The kind of experience to write about in one’s journal.”

Leona waved away Beatrice’s comment. “Have they cast the part of Patricia yet?”

Tori jumped her finger to the article’s sidebar, her mouth giving voice to an answer she knew she’d find. “I would certainly think so, she
is
one of the two main… wait. Here we go. The part of Patricia will be played by Anita—”

“Because I think I could play that part very well. Men naturally fall for me so it wouldn’t require the kind of overacting that is so prevalent in movies these days.” Leona reached into her purse, extracted a tube of lipstick, and snapped her compact open once again. “When will Warren be arriving?”

Tori opened her mouth to speak, to tease her friend for making such a joke, but, in the end, she simply let it go. It was Leona, after all, Queen of Confidence.

“It seems funny Georgina didn’t crow about this sooner,” Margaret Louise mused. “Somethin’ like this should’ve had her a-squawkin’.”

Fellow sewing circle sister Georgina Hayes doubled as Sweet Briar’s mayor, a job that had been all but left to her by a line of Hayes family members who had served in the same capacity during much of the town’s lengthy history. While a master at her job, Georgina did have a habit of filling the group in on some behind-the-scenes gossip that was probably supposed to be behind-the-scenes for a reason.

“Maybe she was sworn to secrecy,” Beatrice suggested.

“That wouldn’t preclude her from telling us.” With the preciseness of an artist, Leona touched up her lips and then lowered the crimson shade back into the tube. “We should always be the exception.”

Tori shrugged and scanned still further down the page, reading to herself—and then aloud—a quote from Warren Shoemaker himself. “While searching for this particular setting in the book, we were taken by the people of Sweet Briar, South Carolina. In wanting to ensure that translation to the screen, we are only considering extras with a valid Sweet Briar address. To that end, we have not shared plans of this shoot in advance to preserve the integrity of our search.”

When she reached the end of the quote she looked up, saw the dawn of understanding flash behind Margaret Louise’s eyes. “Well, there’s our answer. Georgina either didn’t know because they didn’t tell her… or, like the director, the town didn’t want a host of outsiders scramblin’ around tryin’ to get notes from folks sayin’ they live in so and so’s shed or somethin’.”

“Casting for extras starts tomorrow morning at seven. You’re to bring a short bio and a picture.” Beatrice clasped her hands in front of her and looked sheepishly from Tori to Margaret Louise and back again. “Do you think he’d cast me?”

Tori reached out, squeezed Beatrice’s hands. “I think you’ve got as good a shot as anyone else.”

Wrapping her fingers around the delicate handles of her clutch-style purse, Leona stood. “For an extra, I have to agree with Victoria. But in terms of Patricia? There’s only one woman who can play that role the way it should be played and it’s not this—this… Anita-Whoever-She-Is.”